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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25736833">take heart, take flight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshllyman/pseuds/joshllyman'>joshllyman</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Domestic Violence, M/M, Multi, Polyamory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:01:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,375</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25736833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshllyman/pseuds/joshllyman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Since he was a child, Keiji has dreamed of a boy more owl than human. His great-aunt, the only person he can confide in, tells him he’s dreaming of his soulmate. When his dreams take a turn for the violent, he makes the choice to strike out against fate and find the other half of his heart before he loses the chance. </p><p>-</p><p>For Bokuaka Week Day 7, Soulmates.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Azumane Asahi/Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bokuaka Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! I've been really looking forward to sharing this with you. As of this moment I only have two chapters completed but I will be continuing to work on it.<br/>Please bare in mind that Akaashi's parents don't treat him well. Domestic violence and graphic depictions are violence are tagged for a reason, especially in these first two chapters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Keiji’s eyes fly open. There’s bright sunlight streaming into his room; he’s surprised he hasn’t already been shaken awake to start on his learning and chores for the day. He’s only five, but there’s plenty he can do around the house to make himself useful. His mother tells him so all the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mama!” he calls, throwing the covers back and running out into the hallway. “Mama, where are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please stop shouting, Keiji,” His mother’s voice, calm and even, rings from the floor below. He clamps his lips shut and goes to find her, taking the steps two at a time in his eagerness to get to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mama, I saw pictures in my sleep!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said stop shouting, Keiji,” she says, more severe now. He finally finds her in the kitchen. “And you were running down those stairs, weren’t you? I heard you stomping all the way out here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Mama,” he says, too excited to be properly deterred. “I saw pictures in my sleep! I saw an owl, he was flying through the sky, but when he looked back at me I saw his face and it was a boy’s face!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother looks up from whatever food she’d been preparing. Her face is serious, like it was when he messed up on the last line of his writing yesterday. He’d had his fingers smacked for that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t see anything,” she says. Keiji knows this tone; it’s meant to tell him to stop whatever he’s doing at risk of further consequences. “You must have been awake and imagining it. Now go get dressed, and if you haven’t started on your reading by the time I get up there I’m going to be very cross with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji blinks. He wasn’t awake when he’d seen the owl. He’d never even given an owl a second thought before last night. But doubt forms in his mind. No one else had ever said anything about seeing things while they slept before. No one else talked much to him, though. His family was the silent type, for the most part. Keiji’s starting to think that maybe he should take more after them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you still standing there?” his mother asks, irritated now. “I told you to go get dressed and start on your reading. You’re already up late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Mama,” Keiji says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns and starts the walk back up to his room in a bit of a daze. He’d been so certain of what he saw. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget the boy’s eyes, wide and curious and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji sighs as he makes his way up the stairs. It’s best to just put it out of his mind, if it makes his mother that upset to hear about it. He doesn’t want to cause any more trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s just thinking of what he’ll do if he sees the owl-boy again in his sleep when he runs headfirst into a solid figure at the top of the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji kneels immediately, tears springing to his eyes preemptively. “I’m sorry, Father, I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look up, Keiji, child,” says the figure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji slowly lifts his head. That voice wasn’t his father’s; it belongs to his great aunt Yua. His grandmother had passed the year before, but her sister still lives with Keiji’s family, although she mostly stays in her room. This is only the second or third time Keiji can recall ever having seen her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Great aunt Yua is tall, like his father, but round where he’s sharp, around the cheeks and shoulders. She wears her graying hair long, in a braid down her back, and Keiji wonders how she gets away with that when his mother isn’t allowed to wear hers past her shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please excuse me, Aunt Yua,” he murmurs, his voice unsteady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you say you saw pictures in your sleep last night, child?” Yua asks, ignoring his plea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji swallows. He doesn’t know whether to trust her with that information or not; it seemed to have upset his mother greatly. He casts his eyes downstairs to where she’s making food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yua takes a step back and kneels in front of Keiji. Close up, Keiji thinks her eyes look pretty, dark brown and full of kindness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright, Keiji,” she says. Her voice is soft enough that his mother wouldn’t be able to hear her. “It’s called a dream, when you see things in your sleep. Lots of people have them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji looks down again, thinking of his mother’s words. “They do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yua smiles, showing off her wrinkles. “They do. Or they used to. I’d like to hear more about yours, if you’d like to talk about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji’s heart flutters against his ribcages. He nods, too excited to keep himself from shouting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come see me after you’re done with your reading, then,” she says, standing back up. She turns and touches his back as she guides him back to his room; it’s a soft touch, and Keiji can’t help but wonder why his mother can’t do it this way instead of digging her fingers into his shoulder. “Can you do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can do that, Aunt Yua,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But remember,” she says. She bends over and whispers into his ear. “It’s our secret, okay? Don’t tell your mother, and especially don’t tell your father.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t, Aunt Yua,” Keiji answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles at him again. Keiji thinks he’d like to see that smile more often.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you later, then,” she says. “Work hard on your studies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns heads in the direction of her room, and Keiji goes into his own and closes the door behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has something to look forward to for the first time since he can remember.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji wakes before dawn on his eighteenth birthday from a horrible, heart wrenching dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pants and stares up at the ceiling until he can calm his racing heart down. His fists clench at his sides as he imagines it again: the owl flying so fast, outrunning </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> until suddenly it wasn’t, the piercing scream as it fell to the ground, blood pumping through his veins as he ran to its side, turning it over to see the same face he always sees, but then...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy had reached out to him, his hand against Keiji’s chest. Blood smeared on the front of his clothes, and then the boy’s hand fell away, and his eyes shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji clutches at the front of his tunic as he imagines it again. Aunt Yua always says not to dwell too much on these dreams, but they’re always so real, and this one more so than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eyes the door of his bedroom, listening carefully for the sounds that might give away anyone else’s presence in the hallway. When he figures the coast is clear, he opens his bottom drawer, shoves aside letters from his cousin, and withdraws the small leatherbound notebook Aunt Yua had given him all those years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The notebook is filled with years’ worth of his dreams, recorded for future reflection. It’s not every day he gets to actually see Aunt Yua, especially now that he’s “a man” and he’s expected to carry the weight of the family name on his shoulders. She’d pressed the little book into his hands that first day and told him to practice hard at writing so he could use it, and he had ever since. He flips to the next blank page, which is nearly at the end of the book. He frowns as he realizes he has only a few pages left. He’ll have to get another, somehow. The thought of having to sneak it into the house is distressing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the moment, he takes a quill and begins to write all the details he can remember. It’s more than he wants to, and by the time he finishes his hand is shaking slightly. He waves the book around in the air, trying to dry the ink more quickly. When he puts his finger to it and it finally comes away clean, he stows the notebook away and replaces his quill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spirits, guide me,” he murmurs as he shuts the drawer. He takes a moment to close his eyes and reflect on his intentions for the day. Aunt Yua says this is an important part of honing his mind, and she’s never lied to him about anything else, unlike the rest of the adults in his life. Today, he needs to go about his work as quietly as possible, keep himself out of his mother’s way, and go see Aunt Yua as soon as he can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes open, shoulders squared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His day begins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dream keeps itself at the forefront of his mind all day. He keeps his head down, goes about his chores quickly and quietly. His mother says nothing to him all day, which is just as well. It means he has at least met her expectations, if not surpassed them, and that means his evening is free to use as he pleases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as dinner is over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father almost never joins them for dinner, but he has decided to make his presence known tonight. The atmosphere is tense, the way it always is when he’s in the room. It makes him a formidable businessman, well known throughout the city. It also makes him a terrible father, in Keiji’s opinion, not that anyone asked for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father sits at the head of the table. His mother sits at his left, and Keiji on his right. Keiji keeps his eyes down and away, trying not to attract attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit up straight,” his mother admonishes a few minutes into the meal. “The least you could do is be grateful for the meal I prepared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Mother,” he says quietly. He manages to meet her eyes. She’s irritated, but not angry, which is about as good as it will get with his father at the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are several more minutes of silence in which Keiji does his best to look anywhere besides the imposing figure of his father. The tension in the room only seems to grow, especially as Keiji’s thoughts drift upstairs to Aunt Yua and his notebook. He thinks he’s just about gotten away with not having to speak to his father at all when he clears his throat and puts down his spoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s your birthday today, isn’t it?” asks his father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji’s voice, surprisingly, doesn’t shake. “Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eighteen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father grunts. Keiji’s eyes find his mother, who’s frowning at him. He wonders what sort of impudence she’s imagining he’s showing and tries to sit up a little straighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finally a man, I suppose,” his father says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji bites back his automatic response: it takes more than age to be a real man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji swallows and lifts his eyes to his father. He’s tall, his eyes dark, his mouth set into a permanent frown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I apologize, sir,” Keiji says. His voice is too quiet, too whispery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you grateful?” his father demands. “We’ve let you live in this house for all these years, fed you, kept you dressed, educated you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am very grateful, sir,” Keiji says. There are hundreds of thoughts flying loose through his head but he fights them all away, tries to stay even-keeled, tries to keep his temper in check. He’d inherited it from his father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then </span>
  <em>
    <span>act like it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father slaps him across the cheek. It smarts, and tears spring to his eyes. Still he bites his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you very much, sir,” he says, and he’s certain his parents hear the way his voice shakes, even as much as he tries to fight against it. “You have taught me much that I am certain will be very valuable in life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father grunts again. “You carry the Akaashi name, Keiji. Don’t let us down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father seems to be done speaking. Keiji’s hands tremble beneath the table as he looks to his mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I be dismissed? I have correspondences to attend to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment where his mother looks at his father, and he doesn’t think he’s going to be allowed to get up from the table. He thinks for an awful moment that he’s going to have to stay until his father decides he’s done. And then she speaks again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rinse your dishes before you go upstairs. And I don’t want to hear you leaving the house tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t, Mother,” he promises. As quickly as he dares, he takes his dishes to be rinsed. He’s grateful for the back staircase that allows him to escape without having to pass by his father again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Upstairs, he dashes to his room and shuts his door quietly. Too loud and his parents will question why he’s slamming it, potentially coming up to investigate themselves. He grabs the notebook out of his drawer and flips it open to a random page.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I dreamed about the owl boy last night</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he reads. The writing is indicative of his ten or eleven year old self: not quite neat enough to be any older, but certainly not the messy way he wrote when he was first learning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His wings were wide. I was able to see his colors last night for the first time. He was tawny with a white mark on his throat. He flew over a river and landed in a tree above my head, and when he looked down, his face was that of a human boy’s, as always. He smiled at me but didn’t speak.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He holds the book against his chest. Every dream he’s ever had has centered around this person, this mysterious half-owl half-man, and at the end of each one he looks at Keiji with those beautiful eyes. They’re so familiar to him now that he can recall them just by closing his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He listens carefully to the noise in the hallway. His parents should still be down at dinner, but in case they’ve come up early, he double checks anyway. He thinks it’s clear, but still he sticks his head out his door just in case. Now he can hear them talking quietly, their tones even but tense. He takes a deep breath before creeping out of his room and shutting his door behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each step toward Aunt Yua’s room is a measure of both his patience and his anxiety. If he walks too quickly, he risks being heard. If he walks too slowly, he risks his parents catching him. He’d learned the hard way he </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t want his parents catching him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately, tonight he avoids both those outcomes and makes it to Aunt Yua’s room with no problem. He takes a deep breath, then knocks three times and makes a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>coo</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the noise of an owl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Yua appears at the door almost instantly. “Keiji, my child,” she says, smiling softly. “Please come in.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please keep in mind once again, domestic violence and graphic depictions of violence are tagged for a reason. This chapter is heavy so please be warned.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What happened to your face?” Yua asks as Keiji steps into her room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father was at dinner,” he says, closing the door behind himself softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tuts and takes his chin between her fingers, examining his cheek bone. “It’ll bruise,” she decides. Her lips purse. “Come here and I’ll put some salve on it for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Aunt Yua,” he says. He follows her and takes a seat in her rocking chair as she rummages through the old trunk where she keeps her most treasured items. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday, by the way,” she says, not looking up yet. “I have a gift for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji’s face reddens. “You didn’t have to do that, Aunt Yua. I’m not a child anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll celebrate my favorite nephew’s birthday however I like,” she answers. She finally emerges from the trunk holding a small vial in her hands and wearing a wry smile on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m your only nephew,” Keiji observes, but he smiles, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All the more reason for me to spoil you, dear,” she says. She crosses over to him and pours some of the solution out onto her finger. “It’s not every day you turn eighteen, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just the one day, I should think,” Keiji answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smears the salve across his face. It’s cold to the touch and smells strongly of peppermint, and it’s an instant relief. “It’s a big occasion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you say so,” Keiji says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Yua steps back to admire her work. She sighs. “You’ll still have a black eye, but this should help the pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It already is,” Keiji affirms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Yua smiles warmly as she regards him. “Now for your gift.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji stays where he is as Aunt Yua returns to the trunk. She searches for only a moment before she returns with a moderately sized package wrapped in plain brown paper. When she hands it to him, it’s lighter than he expects. Across the top, his name is written in Aunt Yua’s beautiful script.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open it!” she encourages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji rips open the paper, trying not to make too much of a mess, and his fingers brush across velvety soft fabric. He unfolds it to find a mid-length, solid black cloak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is beautiful…” he murmurs, and he means it even if he is confused at its usefulness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try it on, Keiji,” Aunt Yua says, setting the paper aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji narrows his brows in her direction but does as he’s told. He throws it around his shoulders and slips his arms through the holes, and she hurries forward to help him tie it before he even gets the chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you planning a summer holiday?” he asks, lifting his chin so she has more room to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs. “I have a feeling this will come in handy someday, child. Now, look at yourself in the mirror.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gently pushes him over to the mirror in the corner. Standing in front of it, he gasps. The cloak is still black, but now he can see that it’s shimmering with iridescence. He does a slow circle in front of the mirror, examining it from all angles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It only shines like that for the wearer,” Aunt Yua says, patting his back as he circles around front. “The Mantle of Heavenly Protection, they called it once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is incredible, Aunt Yua,” he murmurs. “But I still don’t understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Yua purses her lips, just slightly, before she smiles again. “It’s time I explained some things to you, Keiji. Come, sit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leads him over to the bed, and he sits beside her. “Is everything...alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Yua takes a deep breath before she begins. “Keiji, that cloak was once my mother’s, your great-grandmother’s. She had the same power you do. It’s her line you’ve inherited.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Power?” Keiji asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The dreams, Keiji, child,” she says. “You’ve sensed it, haven’t you? Those dreams are more than just dreams. You’re dreaming of a soul that’s tied to yours by the very forces of nature. In another time, they were called soulmates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The owl boy...is tied to me?” It sounds insane, but still, it’s already fitting into the framework in his mind. Of course he’s connected to that person. “Does he know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Likely not,” Aunt Yua says. “It’s believed that most people have soulmates, but that not everyone can find that connection. Those gifted with certain kinds of magic can find their soulmate more easily than others. Your gift, Keiji, is psychic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji blinks. “I’m psychic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At her fullest abilities, my mother could see the future,” Aunt Yua says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji’s breath is knocked out of him. He stands, unable to sit any longer. He paces several lines back and forth along the end of the bed before turning to Aunt Yua again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I’m not at my fullest abilities,” Keiji says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Yua shakes her head. “No magic user is, until they’ve found their soulmate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So once I find the owl boy, I’ll be able to see the future?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, most likely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the cloak, what does it have to do with anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will help keep you protected,” Aunt Yua says. “It has the power to help you regenerate your strength. It won’t save you from dying, certainly, but it could help in a pinch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji pauses his pacing and runs his hand through his hair. “Okay, so. I can use magic, and so can he, I would guess. We’ll both be stronger once we find each other. What does it mean if I start dreaming he’s in danger, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Yua’s brows furrow. “Danger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hadn’t had a chance to tell you, yet,” Keiji says, digging the notebook out of his pocket. He flips to the page he filled out this morning and hands it to her. “I had an awful dream last night. It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever dreamt before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Yua’s lips move as she reads over the words in the book. The further along she gets, the more her frown deepens. When she reaches the end, she sets the book in her lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keiji,” she says, her voice serious and quiet. “You said you dreamt this last night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he affirms. He goes back to the bed, the restless energy he’d felt before leaving him in a rush. “I woke up this morning and had to stifle a scream.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Yua moves the book aside and takes Keiji’s hands in her own. “Child, there’s a good chance your soulmate is in danger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right now?” Keiji says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hard to say,” she admits. “I’ve trained you as much as I can, over the years, but I never had the gift myself. Even Mother never knew when her visions would come true. It could be now, or it could be years in the future.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji takes a long, steadying breath. “So what do I do now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Yua does her best approximation of a smile, although it’s very grim. “For tonight, let’s sleep on it. There’s nothing you can do in this moment, either way. We’ll see if you have another dream like that again. Perhaps it was just a fluke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A fluke, Keiji thinks. When he closes his eyes, he sees the way the boy fell from the sky, hears his screech wrenching the dark. He shudders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” he agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had best get back to your rooms before your parents come looking for you,” Aunt Yua says with a sigh. She squeezes his hands. “I know this is all very sudden, but I wanted to protect you. I’m afraid it’s on you to protect yourself, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji sighs. “Right. Thank you, Aunt Yua. For everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Yua stands and pulls him into a hug. A tear falls unexpectedly from Keiji’s eye as she holds him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a good boy, Keiji, my dear,” she says. She steps back and holds his face in both hands. “Your parents never could see that you’re the best of us all, and for that I pity them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji bites his lip, and Aunt Yua hugs him tight once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go rest, Keiji,” she says. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji nods. He retrieves his notebook and shoves it deep into his pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful,” she says as he reaches the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods. “I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sticking his head into the hallway, he checks for any sign of his parents. He can no longer hear their conversation, but neither can he hear any indication that they may still be in the kitchen. His father has likely retreated to his study, and his mother to her rooms. He slips out from Aunt Yua’s room and carefully closes the door behind him before tiptoeing back to his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he’s safe inside, he flops down onto the bed. He grasps a piece of the cloak, feeling its softness against the pads of his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy he’s been dreaming of all these years is real, and he’s out there, somewhere. Probably far from the city where Keiji’s spent his whole life. And there’s a very real chance he’s in danger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji wonders if he’ll ever be able to sleep tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The owl screeches as it flies, faster and faster against the pitch black night. Keiji feels his mouth opening, knows there are words coming out of his mouth but he can’t make sense of them. They’re running together, Keiji knows, but from what?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Suddenly the owl’s screech turns to a scream of a pain, and it tumbles down out of the sky. Keiji’s face is wet with tears as his feet pound against the path, trying to get himself to where it fell. Time slows as he approaches the fallen body and trips over himself in his haste. He kneels at its side and turns it over.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The beautiful face he’s always known, a smile even in his pain. His mouth moves but Keiji can’t hear, and he reaches out, touching Keiji’s chest and painting his clothes with blood....</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji is still crying when he wakes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him several long moments to wrench himself from the last vestiges of the dream and roll out of bed. The sun is higher in the sky than he feels it should be; he’s definitely missed breakfast this morning, and he swears under his breath, knowing his mother will be angry. He fills in the new details of his dream in his notebook and hides it away again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Yua had hoped it was a fluke, but clearly it wasn’t--or isn’t. What could that mean for the boy in his dreams? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He works through his studies for the day as quickly as he can, only stopping to dash downstairs and grab a piece of fruit when he hears his mother’s voice from the floor above his own. At dinner he avoids her irritated gaze and eats as quickly as he can without being rude. He falls into bed early, exhausted from the night before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he wakes the next morning, he’s dreamed it again. It takes him even longer to shake off. When he closes his eyes, he can imagine the blood on the fabric of his shirt, and he has to change three times before he’s satisfied with what he’s wearing for the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father’s at dinner again that night, which he finds strange. He can’t remember the last time his father was at dinner twice in one week. Keiji finds he’s even more uncomfortable in his presence than normal, and it makes eating a terrible affair. His stomach churns throughout the meal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I met up with the Sawamura family today,” his father says at one point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They have a son around Keiji’s age, don’t they?” his mother asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji can feel his father’s eyes on him and knows he should look up, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He hasn’t been addressed yet, anyway, so maybe it can slide for now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a strapping young man,” his father continues. “Strong and smart, good head on his shoulders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unlike Keiji” goes unspoken, but with both his parents now looking at him, Keiji knows it’s going through their heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anger grows hot in his belly. He still doesn’t look up at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like he’s got a good career ahead of him, too,” his father says. “He’s interested in studying his father’s business.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji’s hand clenches under the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They must be lucky to have such an obedient son,” his mother puts in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I met him once,” Keiji says, unable to bite his lip any longer. “His name’s Daichi. He was kind, and so was his family. I’m not sure what a family like that would want to do with someone like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a heavy silence. Keiji meets his father’s eyes, defiance blazing through him. His father looks so angry he doesn’t know what to do. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his mother’s jaw dropped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no </span>
  <em>
    <span>idea</span>
  </em>
  <span> what kindness is,” his father manages, hissing it through his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I don’t, it’s only because neither of you have ever shown it to me,” Keiji answers, fighting to keep his voice even.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does his best not to flinch when his father grabs the front of his shirt and yanks him upright. His hand wraps around Keiji’s throat. Tears leak from Keiji’s eyes as he fights to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Insolence will not be tolerated,” his father growls. “Do you understand me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji refuses to respond. He won’t give his father the satisfaction...but his airflow is being cut off...he can’t breathe…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you understand?!” his father shouts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More tears. “Yes,” Keiji chokes out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both hands disappear, and Keiji lands on his knees on the hard ground. Jolts of pain ripple through his body as he pants and hacks. One of his tears drops off his face and hits the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out,” his father demands, sitting back down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji takes half a moment to recover his composure. When he stands, his face is set in an angry frown. He leaves his plate--he’ll pay for that later--and goes upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he reaches the top of the steps, he looks to the left, to his own room, and turns his back on it. He turns right and goes to Aunt Yua’s door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knocks thrice and coos, and Aunt Yua appears at the door. She yanks him inside before he has a chance to say anything at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve upset your father this evening, haven’t you?” she says urgently. “I heard shouting downstairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji frowns. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make this quick, then,” she says. “Have you had the dream again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every night since the first,” Keiji answers. “What does it mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aunt Yua shakes her head. “I don’t know. I wish I could tell you. Keiji, there’s something I--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a knock at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji’s eyes find Aunt Yua’s. In all his life, he’s never seen her look so afraid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to the closet,” she whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji is frozen as there comes another knock. He can’t make his feet move, can’t stop looking at Aunt Yua.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go!” she hisses, and that spurs him into movement. He steps in among the dresses and shuts the door. His eyes haven’t fully adjusted to the darkness when there’s a third knock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door creaks open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you need?” Aunt Yua’s voice asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a pregnant pause, and then: his father’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you been entertaining my son?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is a bit shorter, but a lot happens here and I felt good ending it where it was. Enjoy! (and please continue to mind tags)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Keiji’s heart hammers in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me eighteen years ago to stay away from your son,” Aunt Yua says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where else could he be, Yua?” his father asks. “He’s not in his room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps he went out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suggest you stop lying to me and tell me where Keiji is.” There’s a deep growl in his father’s voice. Keiji closes his eyes and imagines him laying a hand on her; the image propels him forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave her alone,” Keiji says, stepping out of the closet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji looks at Aunt Yua, whose face is somewhere between fear and pride. His father wears his rage on his face and in the tension throughout his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you think you’re doing?” his father asks. His voice is low and threatening. Keiji steps in front of Aunt Yua, shielding her the best he can, although she’s still got several inches on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave Aunt Yua out of this,” he says again. “It’s me you’re angry with. She’s done nothing wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the contrary,” his father says. “I told her to stay away from you, and I can see now that she chose to ignore that demand. And to think,” he says, looking up into Aunt Yua’s face. “I’ve let you stay under this roof, even after Yuki died, and this is my reward? How long have you been talking to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter,” Keiji says, trying to draw his attention away from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll decide what matters,” his father spits. He grabs the front of Keiji’s clothing and drags him out of the way. His hand is making for Aunt Yua when Keiji screams and throws a punch at his jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said leave her alone!” he shouts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a long, silent moment before his father looks up at him. When he finally does, there’s blood flowing from his nose, and his teeth are clenched into a hateful grimace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to your room,” his father demands. “I’ll deal with you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji’s eyes flicker to Aunt Yua. She nods and lifts her chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do as he says,” she says quietly. “I’ll be alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji hesitates a moment longer. As his father opens his mouth to speak again, he turns on his heel and marches out of Aunt Yua’s room. The door hasn’t even shut behind him before the shouting begins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He runs back to his own room, tears already flowing down his face. He’d never meant to get Aunt Yua in trouble. This was his own fault, entirely. And what had she been saying before his father showed up? What else was there to tell him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji sits on the edge of his bed and fights the bile rising in his throat. He wonders where his mother is, not that it matters. She wouldn’t have said anything to stop his father in Aunt Yua’s room, just as she hadn’t said anything downstairs to stop him. As she hadn’t said anything his entire life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuts his eyes and wonders what the owl boy is doing right now—what his soulmate is doing. Is he in danger right now? Or is he somewhere safe? Is he thinking of Keiji?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he opens his eyes, they fall on the cloak. Aunt Yua had meant it to keep him from danger, but it couldn’t protect him from his father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unless…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji can still hear shouting in Aunt Yua’s room. His heart pounds against his ribcage as he stands and crosses the room, pulling the cloak on. The fabric shines under the small light of the candle on his desk, a rainbow of colors appearing as he pulls it through his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keiji has been so worried about the boy in his dreams all this time that he’s hardly considered the danger he himself is in at home. Aunt Yua had said meeting him would amplify the power he already has inside of him, and there’s the possibility that his dream is a true vision and the owl boy will need his help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s nothing to be gained by staying under his father’s roof any longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The realization hits him, and a heavy weight is lifted from his chest. He’s going to leave home, and he’s going to search out this boy he’s been dreaming of for so long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shouting in the other room stops, and Keiji holds his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needs to leave quickly if he’s going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s barely time to pack. He shoves his journal into a bag along with a spare pair of trousers and a clean shirt. In his top drawer there’s a small pouch of gold containing all the earnings from every small job he’s taken since he was fourteen; he takes that as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t risk leaving his room; there’s the chance his mother will be out there, or that the timing will be off and his father will be. With a frown he looks at his window. It hasn’t opened in years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swears under his breath as he looks around his room. He’ll have to break it, jump out immediately after, and hope he can find a hiding place before someone looks out. It’s an impossible plan, but it’s the only one he has.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wraps his fist with the bottom of the cloak. One punch should be enough to shatter the glass, he hopes. If he puts enough strength behind it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances one last time in the direction of Aunt Yua’s room. She’s the only thing he’s leaving behind that he’ll miss. He has to believe she’ll be alright without him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clenches his fist inside the fabric and closes his eyes. “Spirits, guide me,” he murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his eyes and punches the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mercifully, the sound of the glass shattering is muted. A quick glance at the street below shows the coast is clear, so he grips the edges of his cloak and jumps. The cloak flaps in the wind around him, but time seems to slow, and he feels more like he’s floating than jumping. He lands lightly on his feet in the street and furrows his brows, wondering if the cloak had more power than Aunt Yua knew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the moment, he doesn’t have time to think it over. He flips the hood up over his head and starts walking. It’s a dance between hurrying and not running—running will make him seem suspicious, but he needs to put as much distance between himself and his former home as possible. The sun hasn’t quite gone down yet, but the streets are emptying as people return to their homes and families. Keiji sticks to the main roads, blending in where he can and trying not to look back constantly. Have they noticed his absence at home yet? Will they try to come after him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fear runs down his spine in a shiver. What will they do if they find him? Take him back home? Beat him to death? Lock him away for the rest of his life?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Possibilities overwhelm him, each thought worse than the last. No matter what happens, if he’s caught, there’s no way he can save the owl boy. His soulmate. His heart flutters anxiously in his chest. The fact that someone is out there depending on him, even if they don’t know it yet, is enough to spur his feet to move a little faster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, he’s paying so little attention that he doesn’t notice there’s someone just in front of him. He collides with a solid back and goes crumbling to the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The solid back belongs to a tall man, who turns around and looks at Keiji in the dirt. Then he smiles widely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like I was just in time.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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